Eight 4

The first thing Iseld did was to shoo out her bodyguards. Both were cousins to her and unquestioned in their loyalty, but they were sent away so that it could be just the two of us in her office.

The room was about the size of a one-bedroom apartment. As you entered, to the left were three separate desks, each backed by a pair of cabinets, and to the right was a longish conference table surrounded by cushions.

A single, round rug dominated the floor; its geometric designs looked like strands of DNA to me, connecting to each other in endless loops. I had no idea about the techniques involved to make it, but I’d recognized the rug for a masterwork the first time I’d seen it and had admired it again every time afterward.

There were candle stones embedded in the walls, but Iseld forewent them for our meeting. Instead, a pair of oil-burning lamps provided light. Vents in the walls let in fresh air, along with the chanting of world speakers elsewhere. I listened for a moment to the ethereal hymns honoring Trintilei, Singer and Fate Weaver. I caught a faint whiff of cardamon and spotted a stick of incense near the vent closest to Iseld’s desk.

Yuki observed. ‘No walnuts on the table this time. Or tea or any other kind of refreshment.’

Iseld must’ve seen me looking, because she said, “There’s a feast planned for later, and I was told not to spoil your appetite.”

As I moved to sit at the table, my eyebrows rose. “Who would be so bold as to instruct you?”

“My Mura’s wife,” Iseld said, sitting down across from me.

“Still just the one?” I asked.

After her son Mura had received Ikfael’s boon, he’d been beset by marriage offers, and yet he’d chosen to stick with just the one spouse who’d married him before he could use magic. Monogamy wasn’t exactly unheard of, but it was unusual. Life on Diaksha required an all-hands-on-deck attitude, and big marriages and tight familial bonds helped with that.

“The two of them seem to think they’re enough,” Iseld said. “Fortunately, she’s fertile. A fifth grandchild is due in the summer.”

The news won a smile from me. “That’s wonderful!”

Iseld nodded in satisfaction. “A truth, and the best kind.”

It felt weird not to be snacking on something while talking to her, so I pulled out the maple candies I’d received earlier.

“I like these,” Iseld reaching for a candy, “but my people can never find the good ones.”

“These are from Tusulei the Builder. Send someone to ask where she gets them.”

“I will,” Iseld said, and then we both went quiet as we ate a couple each.

It was always like this with her—a kind of respect for snacks that had to come first. It was why I was so surprised to see there were none on the table.

I used the quiet moment to check my Status camera:

Iseld the Stone-Horned Ox (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Earth-Touched, Skilled for Money, Talents Ascendant

Nascent: Strength in Numbers

No changes since the last time we met, I noted.

Iseld tapped the table a couple of times, a rare nervous gesture. Then, she cleared her throat and said, “We have business to discuss, some ideas for—”

She reached under the table, and my skin suddenly became moist, like a summer’s day at one-hundred-percent-humidity. In just seconds, my hair became damp, and my clothes clung to me.

“I hate this spell so much,” I said.

Iseld grunted in agreement. “Unfortunately, it’s the best tool we have to ensure no one can divine the contents of our conversation.”

I felt along the underside of the conference table for a series of indentations. Once my fingers and palms were in place, the table drew on my mana to power the anti-divination spell. When I’d been younger, they’d been hard to reach, but my nearly adult-sized hands didn’t have that trouble anymore.

Iseld said. “Tell me about your encounter with the hierophant.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I replied. “The shrine was attacked by Maltrans, and he showed up soon after. I thought he’d come to reinforce us against them, but he seemed to be looking for something instead.”

“Honored Ikfael is unharmed?” Iseld looked like she already knew the answer but she asked anyway.

“Yes, she suffered no injuries, and the Maltrans were routed without any need of external help.”

Iseld leaned forward. “Did Xefwen express interest in either you or her?”

I nodded. “He tried to recruit me, but I passed on the offer. Honestly, it seemed like an afterthought.”

“We all may as well be afterthoughts to one such as him,” Iseld said, tapping the table again. “All he can see are his obsessions.”

“You’re talking about the race,” I said.

“Old Baxteiyel is one, yes, but I’ve also noted his interest in the stories about the serpents who live inside the hills west of Albei.”

“Where Ikfael’s shrine is located?” I asked.

“The very same hills. There are networks of caverns running under the stone. My understanding is that you’ve been inside them?”

“Years ago, I took refuge in the caves while fleeing a troop of bishkawi. I found zombies though, not serpents.”

“Then count yourself lucky,” Iseld said. “They do live there, although not like before. In ancient days, the serpents lived above ground and were the masters of everything in the region. Then the people of Baxteiyel arrived. They came to conquer this land, and the serpents eventually fled, moving underground.” Iseld grunted as the table suddenly drew more strongly on our mana. Someone had just tried to divine something about one or both of us.

“You sure you can’t teach me this spell?” I asked for the umpteenth time.

“You know what it would require,” she replied, her smile hungry. “I have both nieces and nephews about your age.”

“Ah, well, thank you, but I’m not ready to get married yet.”

Iseld leaned back, seemingly more at ease. We’d done this dance before, and that was the way with familiar things—they were comforting.

As for the divination, it could’ve been any number of people for any number of reasons. For example, a general forecast for how events would play out in Albei over the next week might touch on either of us.

After a thoughtful pause, Iseld said, “Stay away from the hierophant as much as possible. He’s dangerous, especially if he thinks you can get him what he wants.”

I couldn’t help the hint of annoyance in my voice as I asked, “Isn’t that how all the silvered are?”

“That is a truth, but some still see us as people,” Iseld replied seriously. “To those like the hierophant, we are not even that. Knight Ithia—”

“Isn’t like that, I know.” I said, waving a hand to surrender the point before she could belabor it.

Then I went back to helping power the anti-divination magic. You’d think after all these years, Iseld would’ve at least told me the spell’s name. Well, I’d never told her that I knew she was actually an agent of the land knight, so we were probably square.

“Back to being serious,” I said, “what were these powerful serpents like, the ones who used to rule this land?”

“No one knows, although some say that the guardian of Old Baxteiyel—Asiik the Army of Sorrow—was once but a pet of the serpents. The conquerors captured his mate and forced him into servitude.”

“And he stays because of loyalty to the dead?” I asked, incredulous.

“Why else?” Iseld replied. “Surely nothing still lives within the pyramid, and a being so powerful could go anywhere else.”

“Hmm,” I said. “There’s no way to confirm any of that.”

“What? You think he likes roosting among the remains of his old masters?”

“What if he’s there for spite?” I asked. “To flaunt to their ghosts that he’s still alive while they’re all dead.”

Iseld leaned in. “Whatever the reason, the point is that dangers abound, including the hierophant. Stay away from them all.”

“You do know I’m a hunter, right?”

Iseld sighed. “Yes.”

“And my team will be taking part in the hierophant’s race.”

She sighed again. “Yes, I know that too.”

“So…"

“Your point has been made.” Iseld said, sounding annoyed.

Teasing her this much was okay, since she considered me one of her people. As long as I didn’t push too hard, she wouldn’t feel the need to put me in my place.

Iseld brought her hands out from under the table. “The rest is everyday talk, so there’s no need to waste mana.”

The anti-divination spell faded as I also broke the connection. The moistness on my skin and the dampness in my hair both disappeared.

“We have two things more to discuss” Iseld grabbed one of the maple candies, rolling it in her hand instead of eating it. “For this race you’ve entered, there are three teams of world speakers also participating. I’ll send you copies of their spirit maps, so that you can prepare in case they decide to make trouble for you.”

“Is that likely to happen?” I wondered aloud.

Iseld waggled a hand in a so-so gesture. “The relationship between you and me has been good for my climb up the pyramid. Some might see this race as an opportunity to knock me down a step.”

“Your people aren’t participating?” I asked.

“No, I’ve made my investments elsewhere,” she replied with a smirk. “Speaking of, I’ll also have copies of our records of Old Baxteiyel sent over. They won’t include anything from the hierophant’s private library, but they should still be helpful.”

I bowed to acknowledge the gift. “Thank you.”

“A small gesture,” she said, “to reward someone who has done me good.”

“All the same, I’m grateful.”

Iseld popped the maple candy into her mouth, crunching into it. “The next business is that orphanage we’ve founded.”

I felt a flutter of alarm. “Everything’s all right?”

Once my finances were no longer stressed by the Hunter’s Lodge’s debts, I’d made my first foray into rescuing kids at risk of being enslaved. Most of them were poor and/or dispossessed in one way or another, so the cost per child hadn’t been high. There were thirty-two in our care at the moment, ranging from three- to eleven-years old, with a couple of fourteen-year-olds too who were technically staff.

The orphanage itself was in Nathta, and the last report I’d read had said that there’d been no problems getting through last Long Dark—no property damage and only easily-treated injuries.

“Yes, yes.” Iseld made a calming gesture to put me at ease. “I merely thought you should know that someone from the city head’s office stopped by there—an inspection apparently, but he spent a long time with the teacher. She said that he’d tried to recruit her for an orphanage the city was planning to open.”

“Oh, that’s good then. Ours was always meant to be a model for others.” After a moment’s consideration, I added, “They’re probably looking for workers. We’re training the children well, and a city always needs capable workers.”

“And land soldiers too,” Iseld said.

I couldn’t help the frown in response. It was one thing to choose a life of danger and another to have it chosen for you. Still, being a land soldier was honorable work and a better fate than enslavement. In the Three-City Alliance, slaves were technically members of the family who’d purchased them, but they were considered an outside layer, like dinshielei—the husk around an ear of corn.

“Will the city treat the kids in their care well, do you think?”

“By all accounts,” Iseld said and then snorted. “They look to mimic our practices, bribing our teacher to share the secrets of our success.”

“Even better,” I said, grinning.

Iseld grinned back at me. She was a minor partner in the orphanage, lending her reputation so that there’d be fewer hassles, and in return I told her about any children with promising talents. The nascent ones weren’t revealed on spirit maps, and she’d considered the head start on recruiting worth the investment.

For those not adopted by Iseld's people, we aimed to match the kids with families who’d value them. Ideally, the children would be treasured and loved, but that was a bit much for this society. It was enough for them to be cared for and not mistreated.

At least there was no worry a child would go unadopted. All the kids were given an education, so they’d have skills to offer if their talents were lackluster. And there were always farming families who needed help—ones who’d lost members to disease or the Long Dark but couldn’t afford to adopt a child without a subsidy.

The orphanage was meant to be a model for cities to follow, to better use their human resources. That had been the idea that had caught Iseld’s interest. And the head start on recruiting, of course. Truthfully, it was mostly the head start, but she did appreciate the potential benefits of a better trained and more educated populace.

I’d been slowly winning her over to the idea. That was the only way I could see to make real change happen—by modeling a better practice and convincing people of it.

Frankly, I’d never wanted nor expected to have the kind of power required to simply stamp out something like the practice of slavery. That was a fantasy of the worst kind. Sure, the goal was good, but what kind of harm would I do along the way? Obviously, there were reasons for me to grow stronger, but tyranny wasn’t one of them. No, thank you. Not for me.

“And that, I think, is enough talk.” The world speaker started to rise. “The meal is at my residence, in the courtyard to take advantage of the fine spring air.”

“That sounds nice,” I said also standing up.

As we were leaving, though, Iseld paused at the door to look back at me. Her expression turned grave. “You will not let Old Baxteiyel defeat you. A hunter needs to hunt, and the Path to Perfection requires we test ourselves. Yet you must be alive to follow the way and walk the path. Remember that, our Eight. Return alive, or else all you’ve done will wash away with time.”

Her words had seemed to carry the weight of the pyramid above us. So far, I’d managed it fine, but it wouldn’t do to get cocky. One slip and it could all come falling down on me.

“I understand.”

###

Dinner that night was a whole roasted elk whose body had been stuffed with rabbits, each of which was in turn stuffed with wild rice and greens. There was also a corn pudding topped with fried onions, oysters in a tangy chili sauce, a colorful array of grilled fish arranged to resemble Albei’s pyramid, a variety of alcoholic drinks, and a for-real chocolate mousse.

Replace the cane sugar with maple sugar and the vanilla with warm-friend tree bark, and it was just like a chocolate mousse from my old world. When I asked about it, Iseld connected me with the family’s cook, who in turn told me that the recipe had recently come to him as an inspiration from the World Spirit when he’d reached Level 3.

I was so moved by the mousse; I couldn’t help telling the cook about how well it would go with a whipped cream. By then, I’d maybe had a drink too much, but my reputation in town as a conduit for Ikfael’s culinary secrets helped to ensure I wasn’t out of character.

The cook looked like I’d given him a bar of gold, and he went back into the kitchen yelling for a tub of fresh cream. His apprentices went scrambling, and the result was damned good. The whipped cream was a touch minty for some reason, but that was a classic pairing for chocolate.

I asked for a bowl to take with me. Ostensibly it was to share the mousse with my team, but really it was for Ikfael. Instead, the cook handed me a hamper already loaded with portions from each of the evening’s various dishes. His spirit was an open book—elated to offer the food to Honored Ikfael.

Well, considering all the time Ikfael had spent at the inn’s window and the conversation we’d had at the park, it would’ve been unreasonable to assume her presence in the city hadn’t gone unnoticed. Fortunately, people were being polite about maintaining the fiction.

There was a smug look on Iseld’s face, though, like she’d won a prize. Well, maybe she had. Her son Mura had been at the party. He’d prospered thanks to Ikfael’s Boon, and he looked… happy.

###

Ikfael’s eyes went wide when I laid out the offering before her. The only thing I held back was the chocolate mousse. Otherwise she’d dive into it first and—I stopped myself.

Kneeling beside the hamper, the impressive spread all laid out except for the lone covered bowl left inside, I wondered if there was anything wrong with Ikfael eating dessert first. It was one of the privileges of being an adult, after all, and at over two-hundred-years old, she certainly qualified. So why was I treating her like she couldn’t make those kinds of decisions?

I brought out the mousse, and, yes, Ikfael ate if first, grabbing the bowl out of my hands. Afterward, I had to wipe whipped cream from her nose, but then she ate what she wanted from the rest of the meal, saving the rest in her Hoarder’s Pocket.

No appetite was spoiled. No harm done to herself or anyone else. It was just dessert first.

There were times when it was important to intervene in a friend’s life, but this hadn’t been one of them. This had been me thinking I’d known better than Ikfael, and I had to do better than that.

Well, at least I’d caught myself this time, and I sensed Yuki taking notes in the background. They’d help me spot a lapse like this one moving forward.

Then I handed Snow the rabbit meat I’d saved for her, and the blynx crawled all over me in gratitude. You could’ve heard her purring through the door.

Afterward, the three of us sprawled on the floor for a while. Mostly, I talked about the day’s social calls. Nothing secret, though. We were in a far too public place for that. Instead, it was the everyday stuff, the small things from which we’d assembled our lives.

Eventually, I was able to sleep, Snow joining me to help keep me warm. As I was dozing off, I noted how it seemed that Ikfael would be staying up. But it’d been a long day, and my belly was full. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

###

The next morning, Teila kicked my ass. She literally straight-up kicked me in the butt when she found out that I’d had chocolate and hadn’t shared any with her. Then, she punched me in the shoulder, and when I saw that she intended further violence, I escaped downstairs, taking the steps three at a time.

‘Beware angry young maidens,’ Yuki observed.

A truth for all ages, I replied.

Fortunately, Teila didn’t do anything but glare during breakfast. I had a couple of Aunt Tulu’s maple candies left, but the glare didn’t subside even after she took them. It didn’t help that the rest of the team was doing a piss-poor job containing their snickers.

Eventually, though, we were able to get down to business. Thanks to Yuki, everyone was in the loop about the previous day’s events, so it was just a matter of discussing next steps.

Mumu hadn’t had any luck in recruiting a diviner, so she’d continue to occasionally stop by their lodge while we were in Albei. The hunters, though, did have information on Old Baxteiyel that was different from what Anya already possessed. The same was true for the soldiers when we’d asked Ossul about it.

Basically, there’d been a run on every lodge’s records of the ruins, and information that had been secret before was now becoming available. Too many people were becoming involved, engendering too much of their membership. Every little advantage could make the difference between life and death for them.

So we’d spend the rest of our time in Albei continuing to dig up what we could. Our gear was ready—prepared for an extended stay in the wilds—and we could leave at any moment. All that was left was for the hierophant to announce the starting location of the race.